


colour outside the lines

by pleurer



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Confessions, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Canonical Minor Character Death, POV switch, Smut, Wade Wilson Breaking the Fourth Wall, by that I mean Peter is sad about Tony, peter is 18+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-02 00:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20266891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/pseuds/pleurer
Summary: Peter sets some ground rules for their agreement. Wade breaks all of them.





	colour outside the lines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [syrupwit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrupwit/gifts).

> I was thrilled to see your Peter/Wade request, so I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Set post Endgame/FFH. I’m picturing Peter as 18+ but not old enough to drink.
> 
> Thanks to the ‘outsource your decisions to meme’ thread for coming up with the title, though I changed it a little. A small snippet of this fic was originally posted on FFA [here](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/381780.html?thread=2239437652#cmt2239437652).
> 
> Redated for exchange author reveals.

_ 0\. _

Honestly, Wade didn’t expect it to work.

It started, as these things often do, with a little bit of flirtatious stalking. Word on the street told him that there was another sexy red-outfit-wearing superhero (don’t look at him like that— everyone’s the hero of their own story!). So he got intel from every possible source about Spider-Man’s whereabouts, and conveniently showed up on the crime scene to heroically save Spider-Man’s very sexy ass (word on the street was _ right, _ hell yeah. Wade _ so _needed to tap that).

As time went by, their relationship gradually evolved from _ strictly professional team-up_, to _ reluctant friends, _ to _ actual friends, _ and then eventually, _ just a sex thing. _Like, an enemies-to-friends-with-benefits thing of convenience, just until Wade grew tired of monogamy and Peter grew tired of Wade. 

They’d sat down to talk about it. Or, Peter had sat Wade down to talk about it. Wade would have sooner blown his own brains out than have a Serious Conversation. But he’d never been able to resist that earnest, genuine look in Peter’s eyes, so here they are now, talking about their quote-unquote agreement on Wade’s ratty old couch over a plate of chimichangas. He’d told Peter once that they were his favourite food, so Peter would always swing by with some for him whenever they fought the baddies together, and by that time it was too late to tell him that he just liked the way the word sounded. (And by then, he had Pavloved himself into believing they were his favourite food, anyway.)

“I like you, Wade,” says Peter, because things like that are just so easy for him to say. “I think this could work. But if we’re going to do this, I have some ground rules, okay?”

“I’d give myself a month tops before I manage to break them all,” says Wade, because he knows himself best. Still, this thing with Peter is too good to not at least _ try _not to fuck up, so he adds, “Alright, baby boy. Hit me.”

-

_1\. Keep the flirting on the down low_

The ballroom is huge, guests mingling, faces adorned with sequined, sparkling masks, tall feathers protruding like peacocks looking for mates. Peter has never been to an event this big and fancy, asides from maybe Mr. Stark’s parties. He doesn’t want to admit how reassuring Wade’s presence is at his side. Wade looks handsome, his sleek black suit outlining all his best features, even if the mask on his face is a mismatched red spandex. 

“Did you really have to do that?” Peter asks for the third time. “It’s weird seeing my mask on your face.”

“Of course. We have to match. I’m your biggest fan, Spidey,” says Wade cheerily, squeezing Peter’s waist. It’s a good thing Peter’s got his own Spider-Man mask on, so that Wade can’t see the blush that’s surely colouring his face.

Peter is starting to regret this whole thing. The place they’d infiltrated was hosting a couples-only event, which meant Wade had even more of a reason to be a constant presence at his side, his usual joking flirtations and inappropriate touching amped up in a way Peter hadn’t even thought possible. It was distracting at best and torturous at worst. They hadn’t had sex in a while— Peter had been stuck in the library studying for finals for the past couple weeks. This is a really bad time to pop an awkward boner. He has to focus on the mission. He can totally do this.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, his attention is immediately swayed by an ear-piercing roar as a horde of dinosaurs storm into the hall, knocking down the walls. The shards of wine glasses and chandeliers fly everywhere, and dust from the crumbling walls fills the air. Amidst the chaos, Peter manages to make out the sight of a man under attack. The collar of his blazer gets snatched up into the jaws of a dinosaur, who then shakes its head, whipping the man around like a ragdoll. His mask has fallen to the ground, and his date is panicking, taking her shoes off to throw ineffectively at the dinosaur.

“Oh my God,” says Peter. “Wade, that’s my prof. We’ve gotta help him.”

Wade shrugs. “Do we? I mean, if a prof dies, wouldn't all the students just pass? I could do with one less class on your schedule taking you away from—”

_ “Wade.” _

“Alright, alright. Jeez.” Wade takes a out gun from his holster and shoots at the closest dinosaur until it’s fallen over in pain, dropping Professor Brock. While the dinosaurs go on a roaring rampage, Wade goes on a shooting spree, squealing with too much delight for his own good. Peter catches Professor Brock and webs him to the wall.

“You’re safe now, it’s okay,” he says. “I got you.”

** _No, _ **says Professor Brock in a bone-chilling, hissing voice. Peter flinches.

“What? What do you mean _ no?” _

** _You are a strong human, _ ** says whatever it is inside Professor Brock. Some black alien glob starts to morph out of the professor’s body. It’s got white slit-like eyes and a really, really long tongue that darts out to lick Peter’s head in what is probably an alien gesture of gratitude. Peter shudders. ** _You have done well. Unweb us, and we will take it from here._ **

“Oh my God,” says Peter, because this seems like a _ really _bad time to figure out that his professor is (is? Hosts? Co-inhabits a body with?) the thing called Venom that he’s seen on the news. “Oh, God, uh, o-okay.” He draws out his new blade-infused waldoes to cut through the webbing. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were, um, an alien.”

“Thanks,” says Professor Brock’s regular voice, face flashing a grin of gratitude, and then a look of puzzlement. “You sound familiar. Have we met before?” The black thing is still poking out from one side of him. This whole thing is so bizarre. 

“He’s in your class,” shouts Wade, mid-backflip. “Give him a free pass for the rest of the semester, would you?”

“Consider it done,” says Brock, before letting Venom take over his body entirely.

With Venom joining the fight, the job gets done fairly quickly. All Peter has to do is web the dinosaurs down to allow the others to attack, and guide the civilians to safety before the deteriorating columns drop on them. It’s a fairly swift battle, for which Peter is thankful, yet confused.

On the way home, he turns to Wade. “That was pretty cool that we ran into Venom, huh?”

“Right?” says Wade, sounding like an excited kid. “I was only like, eighty percent sure we’d actually get to see it in action. I mean, I planned this whole thing around the possibility of it, but—”

Peter frowns. “You did _ what?” _

“Oh, yeah, did I not tell you? I heard Venom would be here. I just had to see what it looked like in real life.” 

“You _ knew? _Then why did you need me here?”

“I like having you around, Petey-pie. Besides, couples-only event. Perfect excuse to grab your ass in public.”

Peter rolls his eyes, but can’t fight the smile that sneaks its way onto his face. 

-

_2\. Be nice to the Avengers_

“A lot of people are going to be here today,” Peter explains. “So if you could just try to be on your best behaviour, it’d mean a lot to me.”

“That’s going to be hard,” says Wade as he hooks his arm in Peter’s, who looks great in his slim black suit. “My existence is basically guaranteed to make people uncomfortable.”

“Just try, okay?” says Peter under his breath as they walk into the room. It’s big and lavish, funded by all the money Stark Industries continues to make under Pepper Potts’s management. Tony Stark had insisted somewhere in his will that after the funeral, every subsequent deathiversary-related get-together should take the form of a “celebration of life.” More like a celebration of wealth. Wade would kill a bajillion people to be this rich.

Wade can tell Peter’s nervous from his body language, and also the way that Peter casually slips his arm out from under Wade’s as soon as he sees someone he knows. But he motions for Wade to come with, so Wade follows along like a loyal dog wagging its tail. 

“Dr. Banner, this is Wade,” says Peter brightly. “Wade, this is Dr. Banner.”

“Good to meet you, Wade,” says the Incredible Hulk, extending a hand to shake Wade’s. “You can call me Bulk. Banner, Hulk, Bulk. Get it?”

“I like this guy,” says Wade to Peter.

The conversation goes pretty smooth from there. Wade actually kinda hits it off with him and almost doesn’t notice Peter has left his side. He excuses himself, and in looking for Peter, his eyes land on the table full of fancy snacks. Standing guard near it are Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes.

Wade saunters over and taps the metal casing of Bucky’s arm. “Say, you ever finger anyone with that thing?” 

“Bold of you to assume he’s had sex,” says Sam. Bucky shoots him a glare.

“I’ve had more than this guy has,” says Bucky to Wade. 

“And I’ve had more than both of you combined,” says Wade. As if right on cue, Peter walks over, and Wade hooks an arm around Peter’s waist. “Hey, Petey-pie. Look, I made friends. We’re dishing on our sex lives like best friends do at sleepovers.”

“We’re not friends,” Bucky says. Killjoy.

“Why is Deadpool here?” Sam asks Peter. “No offense, but he didn’t really know him.”

“Why is _ he _here?” Wade counters, jerking a thumb at Bucky Barnes. “He killed Iron Man’s parents.”

_ “Wade!” _says Peter through gritted teeth. Sam looks like he wants to wring Wade’s neck. Bucky looks unaffected.

“It’s fine,” says Bucky. “It’s true, anyway.” He picks up a prosciutto and ricotta cracker with his metal arm and devours it in one bite.

Wade lets Peter drag him away, but not before snatching up a couple crackers for himself. Mmm, finger-lickin’ good.

“I like those guys,” Wade tells Peter. “I’m really looking forward to that Falcon and the Winter Soldier show on Netflix.” 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” says Peter. “Just— be good, okay?”

Wade stays on his best behaviour for approximately fifteen minutes. At some point, when Peter’s got his back turned and is busy talking to Pepper, Wade sneaks away to chat up the Scarlet Witch.

“I was experimented on too!” says Wade, clasping his hands together in excitement. “Oh my God, twinsies.”

Wanda stiffens just as Peter walks over and drags Wade away by the collar.

“Wade!” Under his breath, he says, “She lost her twin brother.” 

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

Peter drags a hand over his face in exasperation, messing up his neatly-gelled hair. “I don’t want to have to babysit you, okay? I’m not in the mood for that. I— sorry, that was mean. I just— I’m going to talk to Pepper for a bit, okay? Just try not to cause trouble. Please.”

“Yes, sir,” says Wade. And he doesn’t. For a whole half hour. In lieu of talking to the other partygoers, he downs a few too many drinks. Hey, he’s only going to get so many chances in his life to try all this expensive alcohol. By the time Peter finds him again, he’s taken over as DJ, and is blasting an EDM remix of Careless Whisper while wearing nothing but his boxers. Some of the drunker partygoers have pushed away the food tables and created a dance circle, and look to be having the time of their lives grinding on each other.

Wade can’t hear Peter call his name over the noise, but he’d recognize Peter anywhere, so when he sees the look in Peter’s eyes he puts on some pre-mixed tracks and sneaks away. He puts his clothes back on and follows Peter outside into the cold night air. 

Peter sits down on the sidewalk wordlessly. Wade sits next to him. 

“I thought I told you to stay out of trouble,” says Peter. “You’re really not trying very hard at this, are you?”

“Hey, it’s a celebration of life,” Wade counters. “He’d have wanted his guests to have fun, right?”

When Wade looks at Peter, he expects defensiveness or anger. He doesn’t know how to deal with this sadness, the way his whole body deflates.

“You’re right,” says Peter. “It just— it really sucks that he’s not around anymore.” His voice shakes. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

“Look, I don’t know what to do to make you feel better,” says Wade. “Life, I can handle. Death? I don’t know how the hell to deal with that shit. Every time Vanessa’s deathiversary rolled around I'd shoot myself. Literally. To externalize the pain so that I wouldn't have to dig it out from the inside.”

Peter looks up, his eyes still shining with unshed tears, but he’s cracked a soft smile. “I think she’d be proud of you,” he says. “Not the shooting yourself. But everything else.”

Wade grins. “Yeah? He’d be proud of you too.”

“He would’ve liked you,” says Peter. 

“Nah. He would’ve hated me.”

“Maybe,” says Peter with a shrug. “But he’d usually like the people I really cared about.”

Wade ignores the way his heart kicks in his chest. He lets Peter lean his head on Wade’s shoulder as they sit in silence, looking up at the moon and stars, glittering amidst a velvety black stretch of night sky.

-

_3\. No killing_

Peter wakes up, head pounding with the worst hangover he’s had in ages. God, he should’ve never let Wade get him a fake ID. Stumbling out of bed, he swallows some of Mr. Stark’s proprietary pain relief pills, because regular Aspirin doesn’t work for him. He looks over to see that Wade is fast asleep on his couch, entirely naked except for his Deadpool mask.

Peter turns on the TV for some background noise while he fixes them bacon and eggs for breakfast. When the news announcer pronounces two men dead on the block they’d hung out at last night, the night comes back to Peter all at once, blurred memories making themselves clear in his mind.

“Shit,” says Peter. “Shit, shit, _ shit. _ Wade, _ wake up.” _

Wade gets up, groggily yawning and rubbing his eyes through the mask. “Morning, sunshine.” 

“Wade, this is serious,” says Peter emphatically. “Look.”

He points to the news footage, where the two dead men on screen look painfully familiar— the big dudes with scruffy beards who’d seen Peter and Wade making out at the bar, and then proceeded to hurl awful slurs and pour their drinks on them.

“Oh, those guys,” says Wade cheerily. “Yeah, I cut their heads off. Killed ‘em real good.”

Peter blanches, blood running cold. “Wade,” he says slowly, carefully. “What the _ fuck?” _

“What?” says Wade, completely unbothered. “_You’re _not the bad guy. I did all the dirty work while you were busy throwing up in a back alley. You didn’t even see me kill them.”

“Wade, that is _not okay_,” says Peter, scrambling for words to make him understand. “I— _no killing _extends to people who do bad things, okay? No killing means no un-aliving of anyone, period. Nobody deserves to die, Wade. What if they had families?”

Wade’s pout is evident through the mask. “What’s the big idea? They were jerks. Their families are better off without them. Come on, Spidey, forget about all that. Let’s make out some more without dicks throwing their drinks at us.”

Peter tilts his head up and stares at the ceiling. His stomach still churns with nausea, but Wade’s curling a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, mouth nudging at his jawline. He lets out a breath. “You’re hopeless,” he says. 

Wade grins. “Only for you, baby boy.”

They do end up making out, with Peter straddling Wade’s lap, Wade pulling his mask off so that Peter can slip his tongue into his mouth. They let the bacon and eggs sizzle and burn for a short while before Peter pulls away. 

“You know you can’t do that again, right?” says Peter, as gently and firmly as he can. “You can’t just kill all the people who do me wrong. That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, I got it,” says Wade, and though he doesn’t look regretful for the actual killing, he does seem to regret upsetting Peter.

Peter hops off of Wade’s lap to turn the stove off. “So, breakfast is a no-go,” says Peter, scraping everything into the trash. “But we can always start fresh.”

Maybe he shouldn’t keep giving Wade all these second chances. But something about the smile that Wade gives him, the rare, genuine thing in its entirety, tells Peter that he never really stood a chance.

-

_4\. No hurting yourself on purpose_

As two superhumans with healing factors, they tend to pay less attention to injury than the average Joe. It's a problem for Wade especially, who, on top of regenerating quickly, is also immune to dying. So yeah, he doesn’t really stop to think before jumping in front of Peter and taking those hits for him. It doesn’t strike him as a big deal at all when he loses an arm and gets a bloody hole blasted into the side of his abdomen. It hurts like a bitch, yeah, but it’ll heal up soon enough. The most annoying thing is when his own severed hand keeps springing back to life and following them on their way home— Wade’s got his good arm around Peter’s shoulder, and when the hand jumps in front of him and slaps him in the face, it knocks Wade’s head into Peter’s, his mouth smashing against the side of Peter’s mask.

“Stop it,” Wade yells at the hand. “Look, I know you hate me, alright? But I’m the one who hates me most, because I have a body, and you’re just a severed hand. So scram.”

Everyone around them is staring. Someone shrieks in the background as the hand puts Wade in a chokehold and attempts to twist his head towards Peter’s, for whatever reason.

In the end, Peter rips the hand off of Wade and webs it to the ground, and they leave it there, struggling until the last of its energy is depleted and it dies.

“Good riddance,” says Wade. 

“Good riddance?” says Peter, incredulous. “You lost an arm.”

“I—”

“Shut up, okay? I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

Yikes. Peter picks Wade up in a (very hot) display of strength, and carries Wade with one hand as he swings them home. Once they get there, he drops Wade onto the bed with unnecessary force.

“Ow,” says Wade. “Jeez, Spidey, be a little more delicate, would you?”

Peter rips off his mask. Wade’s blood is all over his suit, and there’s a hard look in his eyes. “Don’t do that again,” he says.

“Hey, whoa. Chill, baby boy. _ I’m _ immortal— _ you’re _not.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“I _ care _about you, alright?” says Peter. He clenches his jaw, and then whirls around so that his back is turned to Wade. Wade says nothing, just watches Peter’s ass as he rummages around in his drawers. Forces himself to pay attention to how aesthetically pleasing it is, forces himself to remember that sexual attraction was the main reason he was drawn to Peter in the first place. All those other things, like the trepidation drumming beneath his chest at the sound of Peter’s worried voice, are just a minor side effect. 

Peter pulls out the first aid kit and sits down in front of Wade on the bed, tending to the wound fastidiously, jaw clenched. Wade winces in pain a couple times, but he breathes through it, picks a spot just above Peter’s ear to focus on through his blurring vision.

The look on Peter’s face has softened by the time he finishes wrapping the bandage around Wade’s waist. “Just because you can’t die doesn’t mean you can’t _ get hurt, _Wade. Why is that so hard to understand?”

“I’ve made my peace with it. It’s part of the job,” says Wade as Peter gets to work on his arm, fixing it up with a stretchable bandage that will allow the arm to breathe as it grows back. The roll of bandages had mysteriously shown up in the first-aid kit around the time Wade started leaving his clothes at Peter’s place. 

“It’s not.” Peter finishes up with the arm and sits back. He looks Wade in the eye, and it’s only then that Wade notices his eyes are wet. “Not when you get hurt because of me.”

“Hey,” says Wade, trying to sound coherent around the sudden tightness in his chest. He presses his good hand to the side of Peter’s face, cupping his jaw. The tension melts out of Peter as he leans into the touch. “Just so you know, if I had to pick a way to actually die, this would be number two on the list.”

“What’s number one?” says Peter. 

“A really good orgasm,” says Wade. He lets his hand trail down to Peter’s chest and hits the spider in the center of it. The suit falls away, and Peter flushes instantly. 

“Wade,” says Peter, instinctively clutching the loose fabric to his own chest. It’s impossibly endearing. “You literally just got shot.”

“Yeah, I lost a few bones in my body,” says Wade. “But you’ve given me one more, so we’re making progress.” 

Peter huffs out a laugh. “You’re impossible,” he says.

Wade feels a little bad for never listening to Peter when Peter listens to him so well. All it takes is the whispers of praise into the shell of Peter’s ear and two fingers up his ass to get him to come undone, face flushed rosy red, eyelashes fluttering shut as the hottest choked whimper escapes his lips. He melts into the crook of Wade’s neck, still straddling Wade as he catches his breath. Not even half a minute later he gets back down to business, fucking himself open on Wade’s fingers as he adds in a third. (Damn, healing factors are the _ best_. Wade’s so glad this is a two-way street.)

Soon enough, Peter’s sunk himself down on Wade’s cock, and is riding him at a slow, steady pace. Wade wishes his arm would grow back faster so he could grip onto Peter’s hips and fuck him the way he really wanted, but this is good, too. There’s a gentle intensity to the way Peter’s riding him, the way he’s holding Wade’s gaze steady, and each time he bottoms out a shaky whimper is punched from his throat and it’s driving Wade crazy. Wade pulls him in by the hair for a kiss, long and slow, and thrusts his hips up over and over until Peter comes again. Even in his haze, he grabs a fistful of sheets to wipe hastily at the come on Wade’s chest before it can drip down onto the bandages. For some reason, that’s what pushes Wade over the edge with a choked groan, spilling his load into Peter’s tight heat. 

Sometime after Peter rolls over next to him and lays his head on Wade’s good shoulder, Wade falls asleep. In his exhausted, blissed-out state, he makes a secret vow to himself that he’d take as many bullets for Peter as need be. The worst part? It’s not even about the sex. Not anymore.

-

_5\. Cards on the table_

They’re playing UNO and snacking on some convenience store food when it happens. Peter slaps down a reverse card on Wade’s draw four, and it doesn’t even occur to Wade to argue, so, yeah, he’s totally in over his head. Peter’s also sucking on a Ring Pop that Wade wishes was his dick. Because Wade always acts before he thinks, he slips the Ring Pop off of Peter’s finger and gets dramatically down on one knee.

“Peter Parker,” he says, faux-serious. “Will you do me the honour of—”

“It’s a bit too soon for marriage,” says Peter, “but I _ will _be your boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Wade gets to his feet immediately. “Whoa, jeez,” he blurts out before his mind has a chance to even process this, because _ what. The. Hell. _ “I was just going to ask you to suck my dick.”

Something must show on Wade’s face, because Peter scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says. “It’s just that one of my rules was _ cards on the table, _so I just wanted to let you know that— that’s how I feel about you. If you’re cool with that.”

A sudden wave of panic hits Wade so hard he has to struggle to stay standing. “Cool?” he says, almost hysterically. “_Cool? _I am the epitome of cool. I am singlehandedly the coolest character Marvel has ever created. Who else could break the fourth wall like me?”

Peter must sense Wade’s impending crisis based on his rambling, because he frowns. “Relax, Wade. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, I just thought that I’d tell you.”

There’s no logical reason for Peter to feel that way. It’d been a month, and Wade had broken most of Peter’s rules, and things were still too good to be true. Wade just can’t wrap his head around it.

“I killed a guy yesterday,” says Wade suddenly. “The car thief I told you about. I only felt bad for a second, and I’m pretty sure that was only your voice in my head telling me to feel bad. Didn’t stop me from swiping a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket. That’s how I paid for our dinner.”

“I know,” says Peter without batting an eye. “That’s why I didn’t eat any.”

“Oh, damn. I thought you just got sick of chimichangas.” 

Peter smiles. “I’m never sick of chimichangas."

Okay, so that didn’t work. Wade wracks his brain for more. Gotta get those creative juices flowing. 

“Did I tell you? I went to a group orgy last night while you were asleep. It was a whole bukkake thing, got tied up, had an all around good time. Found someone way hotter than you, too. I’m going to run off into the sunset with him.”

“Congratulations,” says Peter. He opens up a bag of Doritos and crams a handful into his mouth, and the fact that Wade thinks of that as _ beautiful _proves that he’s in way over his head. “What’s his name?”

“Barker,” says Wade. “Peter Barker.” 

Peter munches thoughtfully on the Doritos. “Sounds like someone I know.” 

It’s not working. None of it is working. In full-on panic mode, Wade blurts out, “I can’t be in a human relationship, because I’m actually a tentacle monster in a human skinsuit.”

Peter nods, mouth quirking up into a grin. “That’s hot.” 

“God, you’re perfect. How’d I ever catch you? No. Bad, Wade, bad. That’s not the point.” Wade shakes his head. “What are you doing, Pete? You’re not even listening to what I’m saying.”

Peter sighs, sets down his bag of chips, and stands up. “Wade, that’s because you didn’t say no. You didn’t turn me down. If you turn me down, we can drop it and I’ll never bring it up again. I promise. Just tell me the truth.”

Wade finds, regrettably, that he's out of words. That never happens. That alone is probably enough to suffice as an answer.

Peter reaches over and takes Wade’s hand in his own. “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. I’m just asking for as much as you’re willing to give me, in this moment, right now. Is that okay?”

Wade’s throat goes dry. The room disappears around him, narrowed down to the hand wrapped gently around his own, the warm, earnest eyes that have seen him at his worst and still, somehow, look at him with reverence and hope.

“I broke all your rules,” says Wade. He doesn’t say, _ you broke all of mine first. _

Peter laughs. “I didn’t expect you to follow them all. Maybe it was selfish, but I wanted to see if you could give up some of the little things for me.”

“And I flunked the test,” says Wade.

“You made up for it with extra credit,” says Peter. “Wade, every time you broke a rule, you did it for me. In light of that, the little things don’t really matter. And you know what?" Peter wraps his arms behind Wade's neck, tugging him in for a kiss. "I kind of like it this way.” 

“Yeah?” says Wade. He tilts Peter's chin up with a steady hand, so that their lips are a hair's width apart. “I think like it this way, too.”


End file.
